It Just Plane Disappeared
by Writer With Sprite
Summary: Sam and Wordy are just doing a routine prisoner transport-or so they think, until they're both taken hostage. What happens next will shock not only the team but all of Canada. When everything bites the dust, nobody will be the same... ever again.
1. Chapter 1

It's the start of a new ride for me. I haven't given up on my other Flashpoint story, Lethal Force, and plan on writing it out tomorrow (and maybe even hopefully updating it!). Right now, however, I am giving you this new gem, to have something to read (and hopefully to look forward too, as Lethal Point will be drawing to a close in about two chapters).

Disclaimer: Don't own Flashpoint. If I did a lot more kidnappings would be involved.

Summary: Sam and Wordy were just doing a prisoner transport as a favor to Parker. Who would have thought that things could go so wrong that both of them would end up on the wrong side of a felon's gun?

## break ##

Sam was glad they didn't do prisoner transport on a regular basis. It was routine, boring and it was one of those things that honestly never failed to put him to sleep. The only downside of prisoner transfers was that they were also dangerous and required a lot of caffeine for him to stay alert.

Luckily, it wasn't often that they did personal favors. Only Sam and Wordy were here on this one. and it was because it was a favor someone had called in for Greg Parker, their supervisor. He sighed as he looked at Wordy. "What's the prisoner doing now?"

"Sleeping now," Wordy responded. "I'm just that he FINALLY shut up."

"You and me both. Who the hell sings about cheeseburgers for four hours?" Sam muttered under his breath and looked at the wall. "I am so glad we do not do this on the regular. Although the free food is nice."

"You would probably do anything for free food," Wordy smirked back at him.

"Nah. There are some things I would not do for free food," Sam replied as he ran his hand through his hair. "I just want off this plane."

"Aww, are you scared of heights? Or planes? Or flights? That was a horribly constructed sentence," Wordy said.

"I'm just bored," Sam said with a shrug.

"Yeah, no kidding. You've been saying that for the past hour," Wordy said. "I think you guys are on repeat. What do you want me to do, make this more fun for you?"

"Yeah, no. I am perfectly good with boring especially after yesterday." Sam shook his head.

"Yeah, yesterday was not a good day." Sam shook his head and looked out the window. "Then again maybe it is good to get out of the office for the minute?" he questioned.

"Yeah, maybe... it might not hurt. Hope Ed's okay."

"He'll be fine, you heard it himself-the doctors said so," Sam encouraged his friend.

Wordy shrugged, "Yeah, I know... But still. I'm glad he's alive."

"Yeah, that bullet missed him by inches." Sam got up, leaving the room to check on the prisoner. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked out the window. The man looked to be asleep. Sam personally didn't care as long as the man shut up about burgers or whatever the hell it was.

The man was wanted on multiple felonies. Most had to do with the buying and selling of human beings. Oh, and also kidnapping. There were three people on prison transport... Wordy, Sam, and Matthew. Matthew was the other person picked to do prison transport. There was also the pilot, who was flying the plane.

Sam paused. Actually, where the hell was Matthew? "Hey Wordy, seen M-" Sam was grabbed around his neck and the gun pointed at his head. "Shut up. Don't move," the man said as he forced Sam forward. "You, Wordy, Kevin Wordsmith," he said.

"Matthew? What the hell? Let Sam go-I'm really not in the mood for this," Wordy said, really hoping that his friend hadn't gotten them into some shit again. Then again, he could hardly blame Sam. He held his gun at eye level.

"Too bad," Matthew shrugged. "Put your gun on the floor."

"Matthew-"

"Don't try and talk me down, because I will fucking shoot him if you say another word. You fucking understand that? Put the gun on the floor."

Wordy sighed before lowering his weapon and placing it on the floor. They were on the airplane; he could hardly risk fighting like this. Otherwise he probably would have pushed it further. One wrong bullet from the other guy though and they'd _all_ go down.

"Good. Now I want you to handcuff Sam right here." Wordy hesitated and Sam was violently shaken.

"But-"

"Do it or I will fucking put a bullet through his brains. Don't even fucking test me, you hear?" the man snarled. "I will seriously do this, you have no doubt of that."

"It's fine Wordy, just do it," Sam said.

Wordy, still hesitating, walked over closer to them. He handcuffed Sam's hands behind his back. Sam knew they would somehow get out of there, they just had to figure out how.

"Now, I want you to release the man over there," he said. "Got it? Or I will kill him."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Wordy muttered under his breath as he moved towards the man.

"You wondered why I was singing about cheeseburgers? I knew that I would get one once I got free," the man smiled. "I love cheeseburgers."

"That's... nice?" Wordy asked, honestly not sure how to respond.

"What is even nicer is that I love them once they are made of human flesh," the man said with a nod.

"Human... flesh?"

"Yes," the man said as Wordy released him. "Human flesh. Especially of those people who were disobedient to me."

"...Of those who are disobedient," the man responded. "Get your hands behind your back. Now."

Wordy glanced at Sam before he put his hands behind his back. The man sighed, "Darn. I was hoping you would be disobedient. I really wanted to eat your flesh."

"Joseph..." Matthew warned.

"Well, it's true," Joseph snapped. "I'm sure I'll find an excuse too later. Now, we'll just sit tight until Michael gets us there... and then the fun will begin."

Sam looked over at Wordy. He had a really bad feeling about this.

## break ##

Ed glanced at Parker. "Thanks for bailing me out of the hospital. I'm about to go stir crazy in here."

"Yeah, well, I may be bailing you out, but the doctors are still taking that wound seriously," Parker responded.

Ed sighed. "How long am I not on work duty?"

"We can get you paper pushing soon." Parker picked up his phone. "Hello? Yeah, it's Parker... Whoa, whoa, whoa slow down, what's going on? OK, the plane is two hours late and you've gotten a reroute notice? Okay, give me ten minutes and I'll be on my way." He hung up the phone.

"What happened?"

"I'm dropping you off, then going to the base. The plane Sam and Wordy were doing prisoner transport on just went MIA."

Ed paused, "Wait, the plane just went MIA?"

"Yes, the plane went missing in action."

"I'm not going home."

"You need rest."

"There's a perfectly comfortable couch at the office. Now come on, let's figure out what's going on here."

## break ##

So, what did you think of the newest story? I hope you like it!

Challenge: So, what _is_ going on here? What exactly is the man who is holding Wordy and Sam hostage convicted of?

Answer one get 100 words towards your character, answer two and get 125, review and get 75 words for your character. Be sure to mention your favorite character when reviewing!


	2. Where In the Grass Am I

_A/N: So sorry for the prolonged none-update. Tax season, which has been keeping me and my coworker busy, has been taking up some of my free time too. But it's almost April 15th (tax due day in the US). One that happens, the stories will be getting updated MUCH sooner._

_I'm still going to finish Lethal Force, I am just struggling for an update for it._

_Also, I don't forsee any cannibalism in this story. It's just something Creepo uses as a threat._

* * *

His head was pounding. And he was pretty sure he was really, really cold. Colder than he had ever been. Actually, no, he'd probably been out of it before. But he was just out of it. He was really, really out of it—there was no doubt about that. Sam rolled over and looked up at the sky. Shit.

"Are you okay?" Wordy asked, looking down at him. He crouched down. "Sam?" he questioned.

Sam looked at him. "What?" he asked.

"Are you okay?"

"My head hurts, what happened?"

"The plane kinda… crashed. It took a nose dive."

"Why?" Sam asked, still not entirely with it. "My legs are sore."

"That's no good," Wordy remarked. "Can you move them?" he questioned, looking concerned as he knelt down.

Sam finally realized why he felt so cold. They were down in the grass. "Why did the plane crash?"

"The pilot had a heart attack. I think that our two felons were going to get him and hijack the plane but…that didn't happen. I mean, I don't know if he had a heart attack, but all the sudden the plane just started to dive – just a bit. Joseph went over to where the man was and he shot him."

"Brilliant. Why the hell would you shoot a pilot?"

"I think Matthew was supposed to take over the plane, but that didn't work out so well. Matthew started yelling at Joshua because he quote 'fucking told him that the pilot had to stand down.' Matthew took over the plane but I guess he 'got his license a long time ago' and he's a bit out of touch. Can you move your legs?"

"You already asked that," Sam responded, looking at him. He moved his legs. "See? I moved my legs." He paused. "Wait. Where are Matthew and Joshua?"

Wordy sent him a look that let Sam know he wasn't totally with it. Matthew walked back over towards Wordy, his gun ever present. "How's your friend?"

"He'll live," Wordy responded.

"Can he move his legs?"

"Yes, he can move his legs."

"Good, because I would hate to fucking shoot him," Matthew said. "I was going to, you know, if he couldn't move his legs."

Wordy looked at him. "Well, you don't have to shoot him. He can move his legs just fine."

Matthew smiled. "You do realize you are still my hostages, right? Even though you tried to overtake, I was the victor. Of course, my taser helped with that."

Wordy ran his hand through his hair, and Sam could tell that his friend was A), trying hard not to kill this son-of-a-bitch, and B), this guy had tasered Wordy. Shit. "How long was I out for?" he asked quietly.

"About an hour," Wordy said.

Sam grunted as he pulled himself up, scooting over closer towards the fire. "Why are we here still?"

Matthew smiled, "It doesn't matter; you two are under _my control_. So you really don't need to know that information."

Wordy and Sam shared a look. Wordy looked exhausted and frustrated; probably from dealing with the same dude the whole hour. Matthew smirked at Wordy. "It took him awhile to learn that. He only started listening after I tasered him twice."

Yeah, that would explain why Wordy looked so annoyed, Sam thought. "So, why are we here still?" he tried again.

Matthew smiled. "We are going to stay here for the night. It's too dark to go anywhere, and it's a dead zone."

"And you threw all of our phones into the _fire_," Wordy snapped. "It's amazing that you didn't manage to go and kill us all or burn down the whole forest."

"They weren't getting reception. They were useless," the man snapped. "Besides, your people-" he sneered those two words - "might have been able to recognize your GPS through those phones even if they were in the dead zone."

"So what are we doing now?" Sam asked, trying to figure out what the hell this guy was planning.

"We're fairly close to the main road. Not close enough to make it tonight, but close enough to make it tomorrow morning. We will leave around...early, I shall not tell you two an exact time. I don't know what my plans are for you, but I'm sure that I can find a use for you. I have plenty of men doing labor already." He walked over towards where Joshua was sitting before he turned back towards the two of them. "Just know that I'm watching and if you try to run - which is stupid, as we're in the wilderness-in the dark-and I have your weapons-I will not hesitate in killing you. Understood?"

"Perfectly clear," Wordy muttered.

Sam nodded as well, watching as he walked maybe 100 yards away-just out of earshot. "What happened between the two of you?" he asked.

"I was trying to check on the status of the pilot. I was pretty sure he was dead, but I wanted to know. He pulled me away, hit me with the pistol and shot the pilot again." Wordy sighed. "I thought Boss checked the background of these guys."

"He did. He did really extensive looking too. You and I both watched him, remember? I mean, he even checked their visitor logs." Sam winced as he tried to move his legs. "The pilot's death wasn't your fault, Wordy."

"Yeah, I know. It's just like... you know, if I'd have been a little faster... if I'd have done something different..." Wordy glanced at the two. "I know nothing could be done but I just felt so... I don't know... helpless, maybe?" he asked.

Sam nodded sympathetically. "We'll get 'em for it, you know that. Boss'll make sure they pay. It's not much, but I guess it's all that can be done at this point. Shit," he muttered, rubbing his legs.

"What's wrong with your legs?" Wordy asked.

"I don't know... I can move them but I just feel like I'm in a lot of pain." Sam shifted his leg once more. "You asked about my legs before, what happened?"

"When we crashed, a suitcase - I think it was a suitcase anyway, it was something heavy - fell on you." Wordy winced. "Wait, no. I don't think it was a suitcase. I can't remember..." he frowned. "No, it was a suitcase. I don't think it's enough to paralyze you. Matthew, on the other hand, does."

"Lovely."

"Yeah, he said if you lost all feelings in your legs he was going to shoot you. I think he's just trying to intimidate us because he knows we're law enforcement agents."

"Lovely," Sam said as he ran his hand through his hair. "Well, this is shit."

"I couldn't have said it better. So now let's work out how we're going to get out of said shit shall we?" Wordy quipped as he looked over at Matthew, who was busy talking to Joseph.

## break ##

"Okay, say that again. What happened?" Spike asked, his mouth gaping open in disbelief. "You don't just LOOSE a plane! How the hell does that happen?" he demanded.

"That's what we're going to find out," Parker patiently explained for what felt like the 50th time that day but was probably only about the 5th. He really just needed to get moving.

"Okay, so Sam and Wordy….they're not _dead_ right?"

"Not that we know of. Technically, we don't even know that the plane has crashed. We just know that the plane has disappeared."

"Planes just don't disappear! There are precautions in place for this. Who the hell told you it disappeared?"

Parker sighed, "If you guys would all sit down so I could explain this once and not ten different times, it would be appreciated. Firstly, I do appreciate you coming in. I recognize that it is late at night and that we could all use some sleep. I really am grateful that you are here. You all know that Sam and Wordy were doing the prisoner transfer today with Matthew, someone else who the man knew who could do a prisoner transfer. I have just spoken with the man who was in charge of the prisoner transfer. Right now, there is no confirmed data tracking on the plane, and it is thought that the plane possibly crashed. We have about a ten-mile radius of where the plane could be, however where it is thought to have gone down is in the woods and there is absolutely no way we can search for the next three hours. That being said, it'll take us about an hour to drive down there, so I was thinking we could drive down there and start the search teams."

There were murmurs of agreement from the team.

"Gear up, we leave in five minutes."

## break ##

It's late at night, but I wanted to post this. The more reviews, the more motivated I am to update. I have a lot of time off this weekend so I'll try and get something then.

Challenge: What's Creepo's plan for Sam and Wordy? Are they going to get to stay together?

Don't forget to vote for your favorite character to get added in the word challenge! ~


	3. A Long Day and an Even Longer Night

Wordy glanced at the road. "So, we're supposed to walk with no shoes now?" he complained. Somewhere throughout their journey, the man had ditched their shoes and they'd been forced to walk bearfoot. "Where the fuck are we going, Matthew?"

"I was going to tell you two before you interrupted," Matthew said, grinding the barrel of his gun into Wordy's back. "Keep walking."

Wordy glared daggers at him but kept walking down the path. Sam didn't say anything. A few minutes later, Wordy spoke up again. "Seriously. Where are we going, Matthew?"

"Away from the plane, I thought that much would have been obvious. The farther we are from it, the harder it will be for your team to find you two. Where we're going, they're going to have a hell of a time locating you guys," Matthew said.

Wordy winced. "Can Sam and I have some water, please?" he asked.

Matthew reached in his backpack and threw the canteen at Sam, "Drink that, Wordy you don't get any until you keep your mouth shut. It's annoying hearing you spout useless information."

Wordy glared at him.

Sam sighed before he drank some water, knowing that he needed to keep up his strength. The man told them to sit down, and he stepped away to make a phone call. Sam handed the canteen to Wordy.

Matthew trained the stolen gun on Wordy as soon as he got the canteen to his lips, "Don't you dare. Put it down, or I'll be forced to shoot you in the knee, and you'll be complain a lot more than having no water or shoes," he said as he hung up the phone.

Wordy glared at him as he set down the canteen. "Here."

"Hand it to Sam," Matthew said, watching them both closely. "Sam, finish it off, and then we'll start moving again.'

Sam frowned, but took the canteen. Wordy ignored both of them, focusing on the grass and trying not to think of how damn thirsty he was. It wouldn't help the situation.

Sam finished and handed it back to Matthew. "Thank you."

"You hear that Wordy?" Matthew sneered as he put the canteen back in the bag. "Sam said thank you - you should take some pointers on manners while you're still alive."

Wordy grit his teeth and took a breath. "Right."

Sam turned to Matthew, "Where are we going?"

Just then, an RV pulled to a stop. Wordy grimaced, before saying, "Your friends?"

"More along the lines of valuable acquaintances," Matthew said before raising the gun again, "Get up, both of you."

The two of them got up right away, and the door opened. "Hey Matthew, what's up!" Jake said with a grin. "I see you have friends. Which one was the asshole?"

"Wordy here," Matthew said, shoving the said man forward.

Jake nodded, grabbing Wordy by the collar of his t-shirt and throwing him to the floor. "Hey, don't hurt him-please," Sam said.

Wordy winced as Jake dragged him to a corner of the RV as Sam and Matthew got in. He didn't feel good, he felt dizzy; the room was spinning. He hadn't gotten any sleep, nothing to eat-no water, either. He felt sick.

Sam knelt down next to his friend. "Matthew, can he please have some water?"

"This has to last you three days," Matthew said, throwing the other canteen to them. "Sam, you can have more when need be, just ask. Oh, and Wordy if you get sick on the carpet, I won't hesitate to throw you out of this RV."

Wordy nodded, taking a few sips of the water before putting the lid back on. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, the words are meaningless coming from you - just be grateful I don't kill you now."

Sam sighed. "Matthew, is there someplace you want us? I think Wordy should lay down, he's not feeling well." Something to do with no sleep, no food, no water...

"Wordy can lay down in that chair he's sitting in. You make it seem like it's my problem if he feels well or not, does it look like I give a damn? I just gave him water, what more do you want?" Matthew asked, glaring.

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "Thank you for the water, we are very grateful for it. But if you want him to do anything else, can you please let him sleep in a bed? I don't want him to get sicker," Sam explained. "You want him to work, right? To work, he needs rest. Just like me. Can he have some rest?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, "If you're so worried about him then he can share your bed, it's over there in the corner. If you complain about it being too small, then both of you can sleep on the floor."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Wordy, come on. Time to sleep."

Wordy raised himself out of his chair and started to walk over to the bed.

"What are you two doing? I didn't say you could sleep yet. It's barely noon!" Matthew said.

"Matthew, I understand," Sam said, "But Wordy's really sick, and it would really help him if he got to sleep. I could take his punishment for the afternoon, maybe, or-"

Matthew shook his head, "No, he does not need sleep. He isn't sick, he was fine a few minutes ago, and I even gave him water. Now shut up, both of you, before I do something I regret."

Wordy sat down with the water. "Sam, it's fine. I'll be fine."

Sam sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want Wordy to shut up," Matthew stated, hitting him with the but of the gun. "Now, every time Wordy speaks, you, Sam - will get hurt."

Sam nodded. "I understand. What do you want us to do?"

"Wordy can sleep for now, but I want you to come with me," he said, as he walked to the front of the RV.

Sam grimaced, following him. This was going to go to hell fast.

## break ##

Spike sighed as he worked diligently on finding the plane with the airplane control pilot. Seriously, how the hell does one just _loose a damn plane_? Yes, he realized that it was pitch black outside. He realized that it was probably likely that they were going to somewhere, anywhere, out of site. He called the other tech who worked on another team and asked him to get any information on the man that he could possibly have. He thanked him and hung up.

Parker was busy talking with the man to figure out what was going on, and what the chances were of everything happening. Everyone else was busy on various other assigned tasks.

This was going to be shit. Sam just hoped that they could find Wordy and Sam soon. He was really worried for them.

## break ##

Thanks for bearing with the long update. Once April 15th comes updates should start moving much more quickly.

Your challenge: Why is Matthew treating Wordy so much worse than Sam? Review and answer the challenge, 150 words for your favorite character! Just review and 75 words get automatically added on to your favorite! Hopefully I got everyone's favorite character in, again if I missed one, I will add it in the next chapter.


	4. No Freedom In Sight

A/N: Sorry for the delayed update. For whatever reason, this update was extremely hard to write. I'm also struggling with the final conclusion of "Lethal Force." I haven't forgotten though. Thanks for being patient.

Also a MAJOR thanks to Torn Apart Paper Dinosaur, who took over Matthew's character for much of last chapter when I was not able to write Matthew. For whatever reason he's a tough cookie to write.

## break ##

Wordy glanced at Sam as he felt his friend's forehead. It was hot, way too damn hot for his liking. He was really worried about Sam getting infected or sick. They really didn't need this right now.

He didn't understand this. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was supposed to be quick. This was supposed to be easy. This was supposed to be painless. Well, relatively painless, other than the idiot singing about cheeseburgers.

Everything had changed when they'd been held up in the plane. Wordy and Sam hadn't wanted to put up too much resistance then - one bullet could take the entire plane down, after all. Then the bozos had killed the pilot (seriously, what idiots kill a pilot without making sure they know how to fly a plane) and crashed into the ground because of it?

After they'd crashed into the ground, Sam had been knocked unconscious. Wordy had had an opportunity to overthrow Matthew, which actually hadn't worked out quite so well-Matthew's partner-in-crime had tasered Wordy pretty badly.

Wordy sighed as he looked again at Sam. He felt like his friend's sickness was entirely his fault, even though he knew that wasn't true.

_## flashback ##_

_"Now, Wordy, because you spoke, Sam will have to be punished for that. Don't you agree?" Matthew asked, his voice dangerously calm. Wordy wasn't sure how to respond to that._

_Sam spoke up instead. "Don't you think that you should let us go because we're both law enforcement agents?"_

_"Not anymore, you're not. I have the gun and I burned your badges, " Matthew responded._

_"Just because you burned our badges doesn't mean we're no longer officers," Sam replied just as evenly._

_"It means that in my book," Matthew replied with a shrug. "And I've got the gun, so I'm in charge."_

_Yeah, until we get the chance to turn the tables and jump your ass, Wordy thought. A glance at Sam told him he was thinking the same._

_Matthew's partner, Joseph, grabbed Sam. Wordy turned around in surprise, having not seen him come up._

_"We're going to have some fun, my friends."_

_## end flashback ##_

LATER

Wordy was exhausted when Sam got back. He quickly sprang to action, however, when he realized what shape his partner was in. "What happened, Sam?" he quickly asked.

Sam quickly shook his head, pressing his finger to his lips as Matthew slammed the door shut. Wordy heard a lock click in place, and then it was just the two of them, alone again. Who would have thought that a prisoner transport could go so wrong?

"Yeah, so…" Sam said, taking in a look at his bleeding state. "I think he's pissed."

"No, really? What gave you that idea?" Wordy asked, moving towards the bathroom as he glanced at Sam's condition.

"Oh, I don't know, something about how he spent the last thirty minutes taking his anger out on me?" he snapped angrily.

Wordy backed away, his hands raised. "Yeah, man. I hear ya. I heard ya."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Great, so you heard me. I see" He paused. "He beat me for twenty minutes because he said he was 'upset that you spoke.'"

Wordy's face filled with remorse. "Shit, man—"

"Don't let him get to you," Sam said, raising his hand. "He wanted to beat me—he just wanted an excuse. He's decided that you're going to be the FBI agent and I'm going to be the whipping boy. Every mistake you make, I'll get punished for it."

"What? Why?"

"Oh, probably because the readers of this saga want to see me get hurt more than you," Sam

responded with a roll of his eyes. At Wordy's stare, he said, "Yeah, what I mean to say is that you are not going to be punished. He gave some fricking BS about some king story or whatever—and then said that I would surely 'feel the brunt of it'."

"Feel the brunt of it?"

"Yeah, you know, pay the price, shit and stuff like that. He's a psychopath, clearly."

"Oh, the joy."

"Yes, the joy." Sam sat down. "Don't let that stop you. Give him hell. I think we should do this: he wants us to have you be meek and subdued, and me his best friend."

"I agree on the psychopath note."

"Anyway, I think you should totally keep giving him shit. Let him have it. I'll probably stay quiet most of the time."

"I think that might not hurt, one of us should be on his good side. But he'll probably punish you for it."

"Oh yeah, I know," Sam said with a shrug. "But what are you gonna do? He's going to punish me anyway."

"Maybe not if I—"

"He 'likes punishing blondes,'" Sam said with quotation marks.

"Oh." Wordy stopped. "So, give him hell, you said?"

"Yeah, give him hell."

*** *** *** Break ***

Ed looked at the security cameras. "Any news yet?" he asked Spike.

"Nothing," Spike said with the shake of his head. "Absolutely nothing."

"Great. Wonderful. Lovely." Ed slammed his fist down on the desk. "This was just supposed to be a simple prisoner transfer, damn it!"

"I know, I know," Spike said. "It'll all get worked out. I'm working on it."

"Do you have a lead? You're usually not this calm unless you have a lead."

"Which lead would you be referring to: The car purchase or the airplane?"

"Either one-wait, what?" he asked.

"Yeah. So, I still haven't found the airplane, but I've narrowed down the radius to where I believe they may have it. Additionally, I believe they have purchased a rental car. But I don't think they're traveling in it."

"Why would they purchase a rental car if they aren't traveling in it?"

"Because it's a decoy," Spike said. "It's too simple and obvious for that to be their actual plan. I've got some cop cars following it anyway."

"Right…" Ed said, rubbing his eyes.

Spike sighed, "Go to sleep. I won't be able to find anything until morning at least. I have a feeling I know around where the plane is—"

"We can get crews there!" Ed said.

"Within a twenty-five mile radius?" Spike asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Okay….maybe not. I mean, we could, but that'd be a hell of a lot of manpower. If Matthew got free - who knows if they're even there."

"Yeah. I'll keep you posted. Right now I'm scanning the area, but that will take some time. And before you ask, I'll wake you up when I know something." Spike replied. "I know it's hard to wait, but I'm hoping given a few hours, I can narrow it down."

"Thanks," Ed replied as he went back to the other room.

### break ##

Sam groaned as he got up, feeling like someone had drugged him to sleep. Wordy was up, pacing back and forth restlessly. Sam had the feeling he was trying to get them both out of this mess. "How long was I out?" he questioned.

"I don't know for sure, he stole my watch," Wordy responded. "Probably eight hours or so. I don't know. I slept too."

The door opened then. "Good, you're awake. I have... jobs for both of you."

## break ##

Thanks again for being so patient! Hopefully, once I'm over this chapter everything will be easier. I've been having some trouble deciding what "roles" Sam and Wordy will "play" in Matthew's organization. So, although I have a few ideas, your challenge is this: What jobs will Matthew assign both Wordy and Sam?

Thanks for your patience, and reviews! Don't forget to vote for your choice of word count.

I'm going to make it my goal to update no later than Tuesday, April 23rd.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam gasped in pain as he awoke, the reality of whatever was happening really hitting him. He could barely move his leg. Oh, shit! He could barely move his leg. Why could he barely move his leg?

A few tries later and he had finally pushed himself up enough to get where he wanted to go: up. He moved upwards, frowning as he saw his leg. It had been totally covered in a cast. He frowned, trying to move his leg around. He could, just barely. It would take him forever to move like this.

Well, forever or not, he needed to use the bathroom, and since it looked like forever, he'd have to start getting up - now. He sighed as he pulled himself up. He glanced around the room, spying a crutch.

This had so fucking been planned, but why the hell did their captors break his leg?

Matthew came in the door then. "Like your cast?" he responded.

Sam glared at him.

"I guess not. Are your... accommodations not to your liking?" Matthew smiled, coming over closer to Sam. Sam maintained his glare. He knew Matthew had put something in their food to drug him to sleep last night-there was no way that he would have slept through Matthew putting a cast on him!

"Not really, no," Sam responded. Matthew seemed to get agitated whenever he or Wordy got upset, so Sam had learned that it was best to respond with a calm, cool, collected response.

"Too bad." Matthew leaned on the edge of Sam's bed, causing Sam to involuntarily back up. "I have a job for you. I've already assigned Wordy to work outside. You'll be cleaning floor number three, the whole floor, all by yourself."

"Floor... three?"

"Oh, I forgot that you weren't there last night when we did the break down of jobs," Matthew responded. "You're going to be one of the housekeepers who cleans the hotel. Don't get any funny ideas, the hotel doesn't have any normal guests. The people who stay here long-term are all carefully screened by me and are my friends."

"Your friends?"

"Yes, my friends. As in my drug contacts and drug buddies." Matthew smirked. "So if you try any shit with them, namely escaping - not that I would with that cast, mind you- I'll know, and I'll beat your ass to a pulp, you fucking got that, you SOB?"

Sam sighed and nodded his head, fully intending to disobey. What Matthew didn't know wouldn't hurt him. He winced as a smack! landed against his cheek

"You'd better not think of running away, either. I'll kill your entire team if you do," Matthew responded.

Sam nodded again, doing his best to look more worried this time.

"Good," Matthew responded. "Marrissa will show you how to clean properly in the morning. Try and get some good rest. You'll need it. My slaves only get four hours of sleep a night," he said.

"But-"

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak," Matthew said as he took off the belt that was hanging on the locker.

Groaning, Sam closed his eyes. SHIT

## break ##

Ed looked at Spike. "How's the trail?"

"Oh, good. I was just about to get you. I've managed to narrow it down to a five-mile radius. I've called the local sherrif's department and they've got everyone searching. The plane crashed about two hours from here so I figured if we took a jet, I've got one available- a friend of ours is lending it - we'll be there in about 30. Do you want to wake everyone else up or shall I?" he asked.

Ed shrugged, "Or shall we let the bullhorn do it?"

Less than ten minutes later, everyone was on the jet that was awaiting take-off. Spike sighed, looking out the window. "I don't even know if we'll find them at the trail. The plane took forever to trace. I'll know what happened when we get to the sight of the plane, until then I have a few... ideas... for what could have happened."

Ed nodded. "Okay team, it's impossible to know exactly what happened until the plane was hit. Now, Mayday* didn't get any reports of them landing or crashing, they didn't actually have any idea that the plane had dropped off the fallen path until about 15 minutes after it had."

"Giving them plenty of time to fly undetected into wherever they needed. We will be able to get a better idea for what happened once we assess the plane," Spike nodded.

## break ##

Wordy sighed as he looked around the outside area. It seemed like some kind of set up or something - he wasn't really sure what was happening. All he knew was that he wasn't feeling really well, and that he was nowhere near Sam.

"Hi. You must be the new one.- I'm Marty."

"Wordy," Wordy nodded, holding out his hand. "What is this place? Have you seen Sam?"

Marty stood about six feet tall. He was tanned and had wide shoulders. He had black hair. "No, you've been the first new person for two weeks. Matthew must not have been so lucky on the slave market bidding recently."

Wordy frowned, "The... what?"

"The slave market bidding, ain't that where he got you? At the auction?"

"Auction?"

"What are you, dense? Every Friday night there's an auction around here. They auction off 'bout fifteen slaves or so, usually Master buys one to do more work in the industry. Figured you was one of them."

"No, he abducted me," Wordy responded, not wanting to say he was an FBI agent just yet until he figured out who the hell Murphey was and what the hell was going on here. This sounded suspiciously like human trafficking-something he had no desire to be apart of.

"Oh," Marty shrugged in response. "I see. Either way, he told me you was gonna need some training in making the drugs we sell."

Wordy frowned, "The drugs...?"

Marty sighed. "I guess I better start from square one with you, starting with the whole 'slaves-still-exist' thing..."

## break ##

Sam groaned as he was roughly awoken from his sleep. "What?" he asked.

"Hi. It's time to get started cleaning," a girl's voice said. "I'm Liz, I'll be helping you. He was originally gonna have someone else helping you but they're sick."

"Oh," Sam said. "I see-thanks for letting me know. Um..." he paused, thinking. "They aren't feeling well?" he questioned.

"Nope. Come on."

Sam hopped off the bed as best he could, grabbing his crutch. Liz waited patiently while he did so.

"Now," Liz said, "It's time to show you how to clean... and how we manage to sabotage Matthew's efforts."

## break ##

Your challenge: What do you think of Marty and Liz?

Don't forget to vote! Thanks for your reviews!


	6. Questions Asked

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS! I LOVE THEM ALL! Sorry I'm so bad about replying to them... I'll try and do that tomorrow. It's 12:30 a.m. where I am. Hope you like the chapter!

* * *

Sam sighed as he looked at Liz. "So, how long have you been here?" he asked as he started to take off the sheets.

"Six months. You get used too it." She was quiet for a moment as he watched her wash the mirror. "It beats the orphanage," she added softly.

Sam frowned at that as he attempted to move his cast. It was heavy and didn't help him move around, and he felt like the weight of a million things were weighing him down. He exhaled forcefully and closed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. Then he refocused himself and got moving again.

He could already sense Matthew's plan. Matthew had separated him and Wordy, so they wouldn't be able to easily form a plan of escape where they could both go with each other. Then he had put Wordy out to work in the field, which from what he understood, was a hundred times worse than actually working in the hotel. Additionally, to keep them grounded, he'd destroyed Wordy's shoes and put Sam's leg in a cast.

The cast wasn't terribly heavy, but it was very efficient at limiting his movements. The man had to have drugged Sam to sleep before he put it on - that was the only explanation Sam could think of.

Liz opened the door to the bathroom. "Restrooms are the worst to clean, we don't have to deal with them," she said. "We just make sure they have towels neatly folded and available, and the other guy cleans the bathroom." She folded the towel and set it there before closing the door.

Sam nodded. "How did he find you?"

She looked at him for a minute before wordlessly putting the towel on the cart. "I was at the orphanage. Hated every bloody minute of it. I mean, I can take care of myself. I'm 17. Who's gonna wanna adopt a seventeen year old kid? One day I decided to sneak out and go to the library. Hang out with some people my age, instead of five year olds. Bad idea. Was actually personally abducted by Matthew myself." She looked out the window.

Sam wasn't sure what to say - I'm sorry ## - didn't really seem to suffice.

##

"How have you been holding up?"

"Oh, the usual depression and anxiety set in around the two-day period, and I've been dealing with them ever since. At least he gets me medicine, although I'm not sure where he gets it from and I'm honestly not sure I want to know." She looked at him. "What about you? What's your story?"

Sam hesitated, trying to decide exactly how much he wanted to reveal. Liz seemed mostly trustworthy but he didn't want to go and announce that he was a cop to everyone he met. "I was doing a prisoner transport for Matthew. The cop we had working with us, Joseph, actually had connections with Matthew that we didn't know about. Joseph helped Matthew get free. They demanded Wordy - that's my co-worker - and I step down or else they'd shoot. That's bad, in a plane." He paused before continuing.

"After that, they shot the pilot. I guess the plan was for one of the two idiots to take over and fly the plane. Unfortunately, neither of them were certified and they spent time arguing. Wordy tried to assist but they shoved him out of the way. Plane went down in the middle of nowhere. I was knocked unconscious by the fall. Woke up, Matthew had my buddy and me - we were in the middle of nowhere. He stole our guns and our phones."

Liz nodded, "Yeah, and your shoes."

Sam paused before he looked down at his feet. "Yeah. And our shoes."

"So he was arrested," Liz said quietly as she looked out the window once more, lost in her own thoughts. "At least I got a three day break from him." With that, she heaved a sigh. "Come on. Next room."

## break ##

Marty looked at Wordy. "So, let me get this straight. The bastard stole your shoes and then decided to make you work in the fields."

"Yeah. Pretty much." Wordy shrugged. "I'm not happy about it either, but what choice do I have?" He was hoping that he could escape soon. Matthew was unfortunately smart. Stealing his shoes and keeping him under constant supervision would make it difficult, although not impossible, for him to escape.

Sam's cast was more his concern right now. He sighed as he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

Marty sighed. "I think we may have an extra pair your size we can find. Some of the mansion boys don't need shoes as much as they think they do. Tonight it's time for dinner and sleep. How do you feel about stew?"

"Right now, anything sounds good. Thank you," Wordy said, following Marty. If he was going to make an attempt at escape he needed all the people on his side that he could have.

## break ##

By the time the team had landed near the area, the plane had been found. That meant less trespassing in the wilderness and more time to get things done and solved. A ranger came up to the team while they were still in the process of entering the park.

"Greetings. Which one of ya'll is Parker?"

"That'd be me," Parker said easily. "What do you need?"

"Well, we found someone. I doubt he's your man, or at least I'm hoping he ain't, because he's dead."

Spike winced, looking concerned. Ed's face turned white. Raf frowned. Jules stopped moving.

"He was in the pilot's seat. Your men ain't pilots, are they?" the man questioned.

"No, no," Parker said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Not pilots."

"No. Neither of them really know how to fly."

The man nodded. "I'm Ranger Mark. I'll take you to the scene."

"Thank you," Ed responded. "So one person was found?"

"Yes, one person, as well as some cell phones and other things that were burnt pretty badly - almost beyond recognition. I don't know when they crashed, but my searchers found something about three miles from the plane. I think they spent the night, there's remains of a campfire there."

"A campfire?"

"Yeah. No tents or nothing, no visible clues. Just remains of a campfire. Seems awful odd to me that the campfire is so close to the plane, eh?"

##

"Yeah..." Spike looked guilty, if only they'd found the plane sooner. Ed put a hand on his shoulder, as if he knew what he was feeling.

"Ya'll are welcome to explore, take whatever evidence that you need. My coworker will assist you to the fire site if ya'll wanna look at that too."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He took a deep breath. "Alright, before you touch anything I want a photo of it. Spike, see if you can find how they hid the plane from camera view. My guess is they burned the sensors or whatever it is - I've got no idea how that plane tracker works. That's on you. I need to know how advanced they are technologically. Ed, you comb for evidence - anything that looks like information on where they could have taken the boys. Raf, you help Ed. Jules, you're with me; we're going to look at the fire place."

Jules nodded as they lead out to the other area. The warden, Mark, just nodded his greeting and showed the two of them the area. It really wasn't far, not even a mile down. Very close. Mark nodded at them and left.

"Something's off," Jules said. "I can't help but think that Matthew must have had some help getting them out of there or something. How does he overpower three men?"

"I've been wondering that myself. Obviously shooting the pilot would take the plane down pretty damn fast, but more than that..."

"What if Joseph was an inside guy?"

"That could make sense, but we don't have proof of that yet. Until we do we have to assume he's missing in action like Wordy and Sam."

Jules nodded. "Yeah." She raked her hand through her hair as they approached the campfire site.

"Something is just very, very odd about this whole scenario." Parker pulled out his phone. "Winnie? Hey, yeah, it's Parker. Listen, can you do me a favor? I need all the infromation you can get on a..."

Jules tuned him out and scanned the site. She frowned as she walked over towards the object in the dirt that was stuck there. Fishing it out, her eyes widened. Wordy's gun. Why was it left here like this and not destroy-she checked the weapon holster, there were no bullets there. Okay, so that was possibly why it had been left unattended. A few footsteps away, Sam's gun had also been laing discarded. She frowned. Same thing; the bullets had been removed.

She searched for the other law enforcement officer's gun, but didn't see it. She sighed. Why did it look more and more like he was involved in this?

That could mean nothing good.

* * *

Your challenge: What will the team's next step be? How will Sam and Wordy break free? Thanks for your feedback! I am going to try and update Lethal Force tomorrow, wish me luck!

Don't forget to vote for who to add - since I took longer than I intended too to update, each vote will get 200 words added!


	7. Rescue Rescheduled

A/N: Lethal Force is _still _in progress, I can't decide how to end it! Thanks for being patient. Hope you guys like... Thanks for your reviews and patience. I have all of next weekend to try and update Lethal Force...

* * *

Wordy collapsed on to bed, exhausted. He covered his eyes with the blanket and curled up. His feet hurt an insane amount but he was trying not to let on. He didn't want to talk to anyone, see anyone, see anything... Talking to Sam would be nice, though.

He groaned as he kicked the blanket off. It was too damn hot and sweaty. They had spent all day picking some of the green beans that were ready for harvest. Every single damn thing here was done by hand. It was absolutely insane. Who had ever heard of such a dumb idea? He supposed when there was no technology everything had to be done by hand.

The man wanted to make everything as much like history as possible. He had quite a few slaves, Wordy had counted over 50. When they'd busted Matthew, unfortunately they had not busted all of his assets and property. The knew that but wanted to arrest Matthew while they had the opportunity.

Wordy groaned as he got up. "Marty, can we shut off the cabin light?" he asked, taking a swig of the water.

Marty rolled his eyes. "No. There'll be dinner soon. We get more sleep than the house folk, anyway."

"Why is that?" Wordy was curious now and worried for Sam. He'd not slept well the night prior, with too many thoughts running through his head about escape. Tonight he was exhausted.

"Because Matthew regulates their sleep patterns. Ours he don't care about as long as we get the stuff done that we need." He exhaled. "But he provides well."

Wordy stared at him. "What?" he questioned.

"He provides well." Marty glanced at him. "I've been here for awhile. I had other slave owner to him previously. He - I'm still not over it." Marty glanced at the wall. "Just be glad Matthew doesn't rent you out for sex."

Wordy frowned. "Just how big is this ring?"

"It's huge, but they've hidden it from the feds damn well. They don't let their people escape." Marty checked his watch. "Come on. It's time for dinner."

## break ##

Sam groaned as he attempted to move his leg. "Thank you for the smaller cast," he said to Matthew, even though he didn't feel like it. The smaller cast allowed him to move around more freely but it would still restrict his movements.

Oh, and to make things even better, Matthew had put a tracking device on Sam's arm. Matthew could now see whereever Sam was. Sam was furious but there wasn't much he could do about it, at least not until Matthew moved away from him and he was able to pry it off.

He took a deep breath as Matthew left.

Liz slunk in the room, giving a full-on glare before turning to Sam. "You too huh?"

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Tracking bracelet, all the problem slaves have one. I still have mine." She raised hers. "Why do you think I'm being so obedient? I want this off."

"Obedient?" Sam asked.

"Only in front of Joseph," she clarified. "He's the one who removes them. Matthew doesn't deserve my obedience."

"I noticed," Sam replied dryly. Liz had been upset at one of Matthew's decisions earlier so she'd thrown a hissy fit. It was quite impressive. Matthew had threatened to take her to his bed, which Sam had learned had happened quite often-it was where Liz usually could be found wherever she disappeared. Sam was trying to encourage her to tell him when it was about to happen, or what were the warning signs that it was about to happen -he was hoping he could find a way to protect her. The one time he had Liz had actually gotten punished more and she'd begged him not to intervene.

After Matthew's threat, Liz had flipped out, screaming about being "done." She'd thrown the pan of hot water she was holding at Matthew, run down the stairs, screaming the entire time. Matthew had sighed, grabbed Sam, handcuffed him to the bed, and taken off screaming expletives at Liz. He didn't know what had transpired but Liz was grumpy and Matthew was in a horrible mood.

Sam was quite impressed Liz had gotten away with that with only a black eye from that. Liz sighed as she looked at the wall. "Matthew doesn't bother me too much. At least when he-uses me, I get to sleep aftewords. Don't stress about it."

"Liz, that's not supposed to happen," Sam said. "He shouldn't be -"

"And yet he does!" Liz exploded. "Just drop it, damn it! You know what? Go clean this room yourself!" She threw the towel at him and stormed out.

Sam shook his head, deciding not to bring up the topic for now. It hadn't gone better when he'd intervened, although he certainly would try, and Liz clearly didn't want to talk about it. He turned his back to the wall, daydreaming how he was going to get them all out of there.

## break ##

"Are you Parker?" A man approached where Parker and Jules were standing.

Parker nodded. "How can I help you?"

"I need to speak with you."

Parker hesitated, "Jules, I'll be right back."

She nodded and started following the footprints.

Parker turned towards the man. "Who are you?"

"Agent Hales. I'm heading up the task force the search. Thank you. I don't believe you'll find Matthew here."

"Something you want to tell us?"

"I tried to call your office desk. You were out."

Parker raised his eye in a 'no, duh' feature.

"So I found you here."

"And here you are," Parker nodded. "So what do you want?"

"You won't find Sam and Kevin Wordsmith here."

Parker crossed his arms, "I see."

"Yeah. You won't find Matthew here."

"You're wasting daylight hours," Parker cut in, saying 'cut the bullshit.'

The man sighed. "Matthew has made it back to where we believe is his hiding spot. We've got one agent deep undercover there. He's spotted Sam."

"Good, so we can get them out-"

The man held up his hand. "No, you won't."

Parker raised his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"There seventy five slaves there not just counting Sam and Kevin Wordsmith."

"I get that-"

"And if you pull out just Sam and Kevin Wordsmith now you will ruin a joint operation that has been there for many months."

"I -"

"And you will not be pulling them out until you get authorization for me. We'll work with you to hel get them back. For now, my men can finish processing the scene. I need to debrief your men. Maybe you can help get my undercover guy out of there."

Parker stared flatly at him. "Badge. Now."

The man held out my badge. "Come on. Here. You can even talk to my supervisor, she's somewhere over there. How about we go debrief?"

"Yes," Parker said before thinking, preferably before I strangle you.

## break ##

Challenge: What do you think of our two main OC characters, Liz and Marty? What will Matthew's next plan be? Don't forget the word count vote for your favorite characters! Both challenges is 200 and one challenge is 150!


	8. Back Pain

Sam sighed as he maneuvered his crutches towards the door. Last night Matthew had moved him and Liz into the main slave area, where they all slept. He was exhausted, he hadn't gotten good sleep there last night and didn't think he would again.

"Oh, you're back for more?" Frank asked. He was one of the few guys there. Matthew had most men work in the fields. Frank was only 15, so Sam guessed that was why he was still here. "Liz and Marissa are really going to go at it tonight."

"Why?" Sam asked wearily, crashing on the couch.

"Because they didn't fight at all last night, although they didn't really have much chance. They'll go at it if we're not careful."

"If we're not careful?"

"Yeah. I usually break them up before they deck each other." Frank turned on the television.

"How long have you been here?" Sam asked, deciding that if he was stuck for now, he might as well make conversation and gather information.

"Five months. Marissa's been here seven, Liz has been here six, I think. The other kids have all mostly been here longer."

"Kids? How many minors are here?"

Frank shrugged. "Why are you so interested in all this stuff? I just want out of here," he grumbled. "But I have no place to go back to." He looked out the window.

Sam was silent for a minute, trying to determine what to say. Frank spoke up first. "Then again, the family I had wasn't that good. Sometimes I think here is better."

"You can't go back to them?" he asked quietly.

"Matthew killed them," Frank said as he glanced out the window once more. "Both of my foster parents. They owed him money and didn't have the ability to find him, so he killed them and then took me." He sighed. "I honestly don't know where I'd go once I got out of here. I don't know if it would be better to be a runaway or to be here. I wish i could live with my grandparents, but I don't know if they're still around."

Sam paused, trying once more to decide what to say. "I'm a law enforcement officer, maybe when we both get out of here, I can help you on that."

Frank's face lit up. "Yeah. Maybe." He grinned. "Thanks." He frowned, then, "You really think we'll get out of here?"

"Yeah," Sam said, refusing to believe there was any other choice for him-for all of them. They'd get out.

Liz and Marissa came in then. Marissa dropped on the couch and grabbed the television remote, switching it to another channel. Liz ignored her and dropped on the other couch, covering her eyes with a blanket.

"Aww, is the little one tired already?" Marissa teased.

Liz didn't respond, choosing to ignore her instead. Sam spoke up. "What's wrong, Marissa?"

Marissa turned towards him. "You need to stay out of this conversation. It is between Liz and I, and I am simply asking why she is tired already."

Frank groaned and picked up his shoe he'd left on the ground. "Hey, Marissa, I was wondering; do you think I can throw this shoe accurately at you?"

Marissa jumped out of the chair, screaming, "Why are you wondering that?"

Liz peaked out of the blanket, "Because it's how I feel about you right now."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay-what does everyone want for dinner?" he asked, hoping to change the topic. They had a small amount of food that was kept in the cabin that they could make. The room was at the basement and was kept locked by Matthew, so there was pretty much no hope of escape once locked in. Sam could only pray that there was never a fire.

He sighed, how the hell was he going to get himself and everyone out of there?

## break ##

They were all surrounding the man at the meeting. Each of them wanted to know what the hell was going on and why the hell they couldn't just rescue their friends immediately.

Ed was mixed between feeling relieved that Sam and Wordy were alive and furious at this bastard for not letting them go rescue the two now. He had to take a few deep breaths to get himself to calm all the way down.

"So," the man said, sinking down, "We have been investigating Matthew for months now. As you know we finally got him arrested and we needed to transport him to a secure location for questioning. Unfortunately, we have reason to believe that the other agent who transported him went darkside." He sighed. "That would explain the capture. Sam and Kevin are not going to be able to get out of this easily, Matthew is very good at controlling his prisoners." He paused. "We do have an undercover agent there, but I don't believe he would be able to get Sam and Kevin out without getting suspicious. Plus, there are other slaves there as well, 75 of them. It wouldn't be fair to them."

The others glanced around, looking at each other, trying to determine exactly what to say. Parker spoke up first. "Okay, well, we can't give up searching for them, obviously. I think it would only serve to make Matthew suspicious for one. For two, it's protocol that we search for a missing team member."

"Of course," the man replied with a nod. "I want you guys to keep searching. I won't give you the area for that reason. Now, I'm hoping you can help my undercover man. The sooner we can find the men Matthew has helping him hide this dynasty of slave operations, the better. Now, who wants to go with me to the slave market this Friday?"

## break ##

Wordy followed behind Matthew, his feet torn torn up. Matthew hadn't given him any shoes or anything to help with the pain. He was limping behind him, trying to think of what was about to happen. He honestly was not sure that he wanted to know but it looked like he was about to find out whether he wanted to or not. He was so tired it wasn't funny. Wordy knew that something bad was about to happen, but wasn't sure what. Just that it would happen soon.

Matthew led him to where Sam was. Sam was half-standing, half-leaning against the wall. Wordy's feeling in his gut sunk immediately, something was wrong, very very wrong. He took a deep breath and was about to say something before he was roughly grabbed and shoved against the wall and into a chair. That was when Wordy noticed that Sam was handcuffed to the wall, and his feet were cuffed against the wall as well. Wordy grimaced yet again - this was not going to end well ever.

"Now," Matthew said, "There have been some problems recently with your behavior. Sam, I've removed your cast, but I've also added an alert to your tracking bracelet. If you go further than 200 feet from the house it will notify me immediately. It will also shock you, much like a dog collar. The shock will increase in frequency up until the time. If you get to more than .3 miles away, it will trigger a sleeping dart that will knock you unconscious."

There are watches that can do that?! Wordy thought to himself, worried sick now. And he thought not having shoes was bad. How the hell were they supposed to escape?

"Now, Wordy asked for shoes, and that's against the rules," Matthew said, "So Sam has to be punished."

Sam tried to shift his head to look at Wordy but couldn't. Wordy flinched. "Punish me instead," he responded. "I'll take it."

"I'm sure you would but that wouldn't teach you much of a lesson, it is much better that Sam gets taught his own lesson. Besides, if I took my anger out on you, you wouldn't be able to work in the fields, and that's no good."

Wordy frowned, wondering what exactly Sam's job was and why Matthew felt like he could take out his anger on Sam so much better. Before he could do anything, though, he saw Matthew hit Sam with his belt. Sam cried out. Wordy tried to jump up to stop it, but he found himself unable to move.

Cut forward: Twenty minutes later

Matthew unchained Sam from the wall and let him collapse to the floor. The man who was holding Wordy let him slump to the floor. Matthew glanced at them. "You have twenty minutes to talk," he said. Then he handed something to Wordy, "Here you go, a pair of shoes for you," he said. "I hope the price was worth it." He left the room, locking the door.

Wordy glanced at Sam before rapidly moving towards him. "Are you okay?" he asked, moving towards him instantly.

"Oh, yeah," Sam muttered. "Just peachy," he added. "What are you doing?" he questioned.

"Finding the first aid kit," Wordy said as he moved away and got the kit. "He hasn't given me one of those bracelets yet. I wonder why."

"Better not wander too loud, he's got me got me in the house, apparently it's worse than the fields" Sam quipped. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting the first aid kit," Wordy replied. He had found it immediately and moved closer to Sam. "Where does it hurt the most? And how are you holding up?"

Sam frowned, "My back. Although I doubt that first aid kit can clean everything. He was pretty tough."

"Yeah, I'm sorry-"

"Look, I doubt he even told you not to ask for shoes. It's fine. It'll heal. At least he took my cast off." Sam winced. "I think you're going to have to run."

Wordy nearly dropped what he was holding, "What?" he asked.

"I think you're going to have to run. I'm not going to get out of here anytime soon with this bracelet, I tried yesterday to leave the hose and he was after me in two seconds even though I said I was just putting something in the dumpster outside. I'd bet you anything that's why he punished me, and just made you feel like it was really about the shoes."

"I don't want to leave you here, though," Wordy said.

Sam shrugged, "I don't want to be here either, but we may not have a choice. Let's discuss some things we can think about for escape..."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam gasped as the belt hit his back again and again. And again. He wondered what the hell he'd done wrong or what the hell Wordy had done wrong. Matthew was saying nothing too him, he was just - gasp - hitting him.

Sam let out a scream once Matthew hit him in the wrong spot, and Matthew slammed the belt against him again. "No screaming - it gives me a headache," he snapped. Matthew hit him one more time before allowing Sam to collapse to the ground.

He remained quiet, not wanting to risk Matthew beating him again. Matthew frowned before saying, "Your new rule: no speaking."

Rather than be beaten again, Sam just settled for glaring at him - Matthew hadn't said that was a no-go.

"I need a personal slave to accompany me when I discuss things to tend to my needs. Not my sexual needs, of course, I prefer women, but to carry my bags and assist me with other duties. I was going to use Frank for this trip, but he's a minor and school is in session."

Sam stared at him. His personal slave? Who was Matthew kidding? What did he think, Sam was going to roll over and listen to him? Sam frowned when he realized that was probably exactly what the man was expecting. Well, that wouldn't happen, not in a million years. "No. Not happening. You can't expect me just to roll over and be your personal slave! I-"

Matthew slapped him, hard. Then he hit him again. And again. Finally, he said, "I do. I know you're a former agent."

"A former agent?" Sam snapped.

"Yes, a former agent. You are not going back to that place, no way, no how," he said as he grabbed his belt and struck Sam again. Sam tried to get up but Matthew shoved him back to the ground. "SIT!"

Sam sighed, really not wanting to roll over and be Matthew's personal slave-but then again if he was... he could pick up valuable information and possibly attempt to escape.

"Let's do this this way," Matthew said as he pointed his gun at Sam. "We're leaving right now. Kapeesh?"

Sam groaned inwardly. Shit.

## break ##

"The past few months, we've been looking into Matthew's dealings. We have had one undercover agent the past few weeks that has been doing things in there. We want him to move up higher in the organization and he's working on it. He needs to recruit someone, so he's signed up me."

"Is that a good thing?" Spike asked, leaning back against the table. The man seemed extremely stressed and worried about it and he couldn't help but wonder why.

"Well, it'd help us get closer to Sam and Kevin. But the thing is, I'd need to be there tomorrow, and the next auction isn't until Saturday. I'd need a slave to accompany me, and-"

"I'll go," Spike volunteered.

The man frowned, "Well, it could work, but wouldn't it look suspicious for you to suddenly disappear?"

"We could cover for that," Parker suggested. He would have to work out a few details but he really liked the idea of someone accompanying the guy on the investigation. Of course, he wasn't so sure he liked the idea of Spike's cover. "How would Spike be treated?"

The man sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. We could fake most of it, but I'd have to be very verbally abusive and even physically aggressive."

"I could handle it," Spike said, determined to get Sam back at any cost.

"We'll talk about it," the man said.

## break ##

Wordy groaned as he woke up, rolling over and facing towards the door. The sun wasn't up yet, there was no way in hell he was getting out of bed. He pulled the blankets under hsi covers.

He was feeling better - it was amazing how much shoes protected the feet. Right now they were in the middle of harvesting still. Every single thing was harvested by hand, that was Matthew's draw; it was all "organic" and "done naturally, by hand."

Wordy personally just thought that meant he liked to torture all of his slaves a little bit more, but that was just him.

He had to escape, but how? He supposed he could run off, but it would be difficult. There were like fifteen different people that watched after the the slaves.

He exhaled, hating to think of himself that way. He was not a slave. None of them were slaves. It was just so easy to fall into the day-to-day you did this, did that, and then - before you knew it everything was done and you were back at square one, too exhausted to even attempt to think about escape.

... except, he was up now; he could GET UP NOW. He pulled himself up as he looked up and started walking around the cabin. They could get out of this.

## break ##

Sam groaned as he woke back up again, feeling dizzy and generally sick to his stomach. He hadn't been asleep long - he had been asleep sitting up. He glanced around the room, the meeting was about to take place. He sat up a little, trying to pay attention. He glanced towards one of the other guys in the room and glanced down even as his eyes widened.

The man sitting just to his left was one of America's most wanted terrorists. Holy shit. He glanced around the room all while trying not to look like he was gazing at the room.

His gaze landed on Spike, his co-worker. He had to try hard to do his shock. What was his friend and partner doing here?!

"Sit," other man, who Sam didn't recognize, said to Spike. When Spike didn't automatically comply, he snapped, "DAMN IT! I SAID SIT!" before he backhanded Spike and shoved him to the floor.

It took all of Sam's willpower not to reach out and strike the man, even as a thousand thoughts raced through his head. What happened? What the hell was going on here?!

## break ##

OK, so, your challenge: What the hell is going on? *Insert wide smiley*. Your reward: 200 words on your favorite character! Don't forget to vote. Thanks for all your reviews!1!


	10. Deaths Real or Faked?

Wordy stared at Marty, "Okay, so you're showing me how to escape, but you don't want to go with me. What's wrong with this picture?"

"You do not want to escape? Do you not have anyone to go back to? Surely you at least have your team to go back too," the man responded.

"That's not it, I just want to make sure that I don't get shot trying to escape. Why don't you want to escape?"

"I am stuck here, for awhile," Marty shrugged. "I'm undercover. My badge number is 090987, you can look it back up when you get in the office. Tell the DEA I might need some backup, sooner rather than later."

Wordy frowned, "Sooner rather than later? And what about Sam?"

"I'll look out for Sam, and so will Liz."

"Liz? I think Sam hates her and she hates him. And Sam doesn't hate many people."

Marty chuckled. "Liz has a lot of issues, she's Matthew's personal...slave, if you know what i mean."

"Wait. I thought you said Sam was his personal slave?"

"Yes, apparently Liz is cheaper than a hooker." Marty ran his hand through his hair. "Sam is supposed to help Matthew with anything else, like...fixing his breakfast, and stuff."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to go over well."

"Anyway, we're wasting time that we could be using to get you away," Marty said. "I'm with the DEA, Squad 52, check me out, send me backup, please. Here, I packed you a bag."

"Thanks."

"It's got a lot of information in it, don't get captured with it, or we're all fucked," Marty said.

"Yeah. On it. What else is in here that I should know about? Any bombs?"

"No, just some food and other things, like cash to get you to a pay phone."

"Thanks Marty, look out for Sam, would you?"

"Yeah. You get back here with help."

"Will do." Wordy paused before saying, "And let Sam know I didn't abandon him."

"I plan on it."

## break ##

Spike sighed as he looked at the girl who was in the room. "Jarrod," he responded. "Jarrod is my name-what's yours?"

"Liz," she replied shortly. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam?" he asked, playing dumb. He knew who Sam was, but obviously couldn't reveal that fact.

"Yeah. Sam. Matthew's personal slave," she said. "Where is he?"

"Look, I just got here," Spike snapped, "I don't even know who you're talking about." Spike's cover was someone who was a rebellious slave, who didn't care about anyone or anything. That gave him plenty of excuses to sneak off, and if need be, escape. He yawned as he collapsed on the couch. "Look, I don't care about anyone else other than myself, so fuck off."

Liz rolled her eyes and sat down. "Yeah, Matthew's determined to brainwash him. Sam, mean. Matthew's an idiot who doesn't realize Sam is tough and that Sam will get him."

"Sam sounds like a nobody," Spike shrugged.

"Sam's a law enforcement officer." Liz looked out the window. "I hope he gets us out of here. I hate it here." She turned towards him, "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?"

"I asked first," she said. "But, not that it's any of YOUR business-I'm Matthew's personal slave. For his needs. Sam is...I don't know what he does."

"I'm Jerrik's slave."

"Oh, poor you."

"Poor me?" Spike asked.

"Yeah. Jerrik is a really tough ass. He's been here many many times before. Killed four slaves previously, from what I heard." Liz flopped on the couch. "I call TV rights."

Spike was too busy trying to process that thought. Jerrik (his undercover name) had told them that he was going to be breaking in as a newbie. So what was really going on and how did Liz seem to know him already?

## break ##

Sam gasped as Matthew shoved him back against the wall. "You're too distracted," Matthew sneered, "and I won't have it. You're my slave now. You are supposed to pay attention to what I want!"

"I don't know what you want," Sam replied, looking weary. He had been 48 hours without sleep and was actually worried, Matthew seemed to be in an irate mood. "W-what do you want?"

"I want you to watch this video," Matthew said as he shoved Sam down in the seat. He grabbed the video and put it in the slot, grabbing the remote and turning it on. He pointed his gun at Sam, "If you attack me, I will kill you."

"Got it," Sam responded, nodding as he turned towards the video before he was shocked at what he saw.

This was not good.

## break ##

Twenty minutes later, Sam was sick to his stomach with fear, and he was exhausted, moreso than before. "Y-you're lying," he told Matthew, "That didn't happen-it never happened."

"Oh? And how, I might ask, would I have faked a video of the death of your squad?" Matthew said. "And might I add, Kevin Wordsmith is dead as well - I shot him when I caught him trying to run." He flashed a picture of someone who looked sort of like Wordy, but before Sam could see anything, the man grabbed it away and shoved it under a drawer.

Matthew grabbed Sam by his neck and lifted the knife to Sam's throat. "So," he said, "Are you more... focused now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied, trying hard not to look at the knife as he tried to focus his thoughts anywhere but the room. He couldn't handle this, he couldn't fucking handle this. The man grabbed him and shoved him towards the bed on the floor. "You sleep there, you bastard," he snapped. "Think about what you did, and how you're going to change it so nobody else fucking dies, you fucking got that?"

"Y-yeah," Sam responded as he tried to process his thoughts. He turned against the wall as Matthew went into the restroom.

My team is dead. My team is dead. Is Spike alive? I see him here today. I can't believe that my team is dead and that Matthew killed them because I wasn't fucking attending his fucking needs.

I don't even know what he wants. What does he want? he thought, looking at the wall. He didn't know.

He was going to kill Matthew with his own bare hands and then figure out where the hell his team was.

Please let that video be faked, he thought.

****

## break ##

Challenge: Are the videos/pics fake?

Don't forget to vote!


	11. Short chapter

Sam knew one of the worst things he could do was try and repress his emotions, so right then, he just allowed himself to feel. He took a deep breath and just attempted to let the emotions process over him. He sharply inhaled and exhaled and then let it all go. Or at least, he tried too.

He closed his eyes and let the tension flow through him, acknowledging how he felt. He leaned his back against the door and tried hard not to think.

All of his concentration was shot when Matthew flung the door open. "Come," he snapped. Not wanting to disobey, lest he kill someone else, Sam followed him out of that room. "I'm sure you are wondering whether or not what I showed you is real," he said. "I am happy to tell you that your team's funeral will be tomorrow. Do you want to watch it?"

"Y-yeah," he said. He'd obviously be able to tell if something was faked then, right? He prayed he was able to tell something was faked.

Matthew had his M14 out and ready. Actually, a lot of them were not hiding their guns, he had noticed. Wherever they had moved too, they were being much more open about their cause.

"In here," Matthew said, pointing the weapon at him. He also had a gun strapped to his ankle. Sam sighed and followed his instruction.

"Sam!" Liz said, looking relieved. "I'm glad you're here. I'm bored!"

"I'm sure I could find some things for you to do," Matthew said.

"I'll never be that bored, jackass pedophile bitch," she responded with a roll of her eyes.

One other man joined them then, his hand on other sharp weapon Sam couldn't remember the name of. Desert Eagle, that was it. "Jarrod?"

Spike's head snapped up, and it was then that Sam breathed a small sigh of relief, though it wasn't visible. Jarrod. He'd have to remember that, he thought.

"What?" Spike snapped, angry. "What do you fucking want now?"

"I want you to stop swearing, for one. It's unbecoming of a slave. For two, I need some help moving some things around in my room later, and you will accompany me then. Thirdly, you better behave in here, you got that? Or I will beat your ass."

"I don't obey shit like you."

The man stepped forward then and Sam winced. Matthew grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt and physically pulled him back, grabbing him and shoving him up against the wall.

"You're not the Jerrik I know," Liz muttered under her breath. "Wow. Two Jerriks."

Jerrick looked at her and gave her a stony glare. "Shut up." He turned to Spike. "Hands on the wall."

"No."

"Hands on the wall!" the man said, grabbing him and shoving him there before holding his gun up against Spike's head. Sam's breath stopped, he had no idea who this Jerrik man was. All he could think of was a single thing that came to mind, and that was:

"Don't!"

Matthew turned and stared at him before slapping Sam across the face. "Shut up," he said.

Jarrod winced as he looked at the other man. "I'll stop swearing. Fine." He pouted, looking incredibly like a teenager.

"You behave, and if you talk about escape, I'll beat you and lock you insolitary." The two men left the room.

"And what, you're going to listen to us with insects?" Spike yelled out. Sam caught on instantly, the room was bugged.

The men shut the door then. Spike turned to Sam. "Who the fuck are you?"

Yeah, either he was very amnesic and had an assumed cover role or he was undercover. Sam bet anyone anything it was the latter. He was undercover. He wondered why the decision had been made to be undercover, and what was the story behind that.

"Who the fuck are you?" Sam fired back, looking at the man.

"Jarrod. Now what the heck-"

"Sam," Liz answered. "Tell me punching Jarrod would be a bad idea."

Sam frowned, "Punching Jarrod would be a bad idea. I don't think his owner would appriciate it."

"Like you could hurt me," Spike snorted.

Liz rolled her eyes, but rather than addressing the comment, ignored him. "Sam, Kevin died."

"I know," he said, running his hand through his hair.

"I was there. He shot him!" Liz said, breaking down into tears.

"You were there?" Spike asked, turning around instantly. "Wait, who is this Kevin? Does he even exist?"

"Yeah, he did. He was my coworker and friend, and if you say one negative word 'm gonna knock your lights out." Sam turned to Liz, "Tell me exactly what you saw."

"I saw him, walking around - he had a napsack on. Marty walked up, and I saw Marty had a shotgun. M-Matthew ordered Marty to shoot him!"

"Who is Marty?"

"He's another slave," Liz said. "I didn't think that he would hurt anyone, really I didn't!"

"Kevin Wordsmith is dead? Who was he?" Spike asked, a bad feeling gnawing in his gut.

Sam felt chilled, he was really exhausted and he didn't want to deal with this right now but he didn't have a choice. "I'm sorry," he said tiredly. "I'm really sorry you had to see that."

"And he just laid on the ground and didn't get up," Liz sobbed.

Sam embraced her in a hug, feeling more worried for his team than ever.

## break ##

I know this is short, but thanks for your reviews and I'm glad that you're all reading! I hope I got some of everyone's favorite character in there. So here is your challenge for **three hundred words**:

Do you think that Wordy is really dead? And if so, did Marty kill him?


	12. Spike for Sale

Thanks for being patient! I have had a lot going on recently, and I seriously started to write this thing like TEN TIMES... It's annoying! But it's written!

Sam looked out the window when Matthew was in the bathroom, contemplating how hard it would be for him to throw himself out the window. He took a deep a breath as he contemplated different ways to escape.

How could he escape? He mildly wondered. He glanced back at his 'bed', wishing he was anywhere but here. He had to know that his team was still alive. His bed wasn't even that, it was just a couch.

Matthew came back, then. His gun was equipped as he unlocked the deadbolt with the code. "You aren't sleeping here, come on."

Sam sighed and followed him, looking around for any clues as to how he could escape and trying to memorize his route. He wasn't putting up with this shit, he was getting out of here. He just didn't know how or yet.

He went downstairs, following Matthew. Matthew had been more aggressive lately and Sam worried about everyone else.

And himself, but he couldn't focus too much on that. He took a breath as he looked out at the wall once more, calculating how hard it would be to just run off.

Matthew opened the door and gestured him in.

## break ##

Spike turned around and looked at the door that opened. Liz had fallen asleep on the couch after spending half an hour ranting about something he couldn't remember. Another guy had joined the two of them in the room, but ignored all of Spike's attempts to talk and just fell asleep. Spike had searched the room for bugs and had found two under the television. He had been careful not to disturb them but left them there.

He took a deep breath, looking at the wall and contemplating his owner. Liz had said she'd heard he had killed four men and it seemed like she had seen him before. Spike had been told the man had been just going undercover.

He didn't know how reliable of a source Liz was, of course. He ran a hand through his hair -and then the door opened. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the window, trying to ignore Matthew.

"Get in there," Matthew snapped, shoving at Sam.

Sam growled, "Fuck off."

Matthew grabbed Sam by the chin, "I just killed your entire team, but that doesn't mean that I can't be more lethal than I already am." He took a deep breath out. "I can kill everyone in this room. Really, it would be no hassle. Now, apologize."

Sam ran his hand through his hair, "I'm sorry, okay?" he said, though Spike could tell he didn't really mean it.

"Good," Matthew said, leaving the room.

"You're a wuss," Spike snapped, really worried by what Matthew had responded to "had killed his entire team." "What's he got over you?"

Sam shot him a look that clearly stated what he felt about that statement.

"So I'm a wuss, what are you? After all, you're here too."

"I have no choice to be here. "

"You assume I do have a choice to be here?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"You have more of a chance then I do. I tried to escape ten times in the last year, and I can tell you haven't tried to escape any. You're a wuss."

Sam rolled his eyes. Spike was attempting to sound intimidating, he wasn't sure why. Perhaps that was his undercover role?

The door opened, and Matthew and someone else appeared. Liz yawned and rolled over, but didn't wake up. Sam had pretty much determined she could sleep through almost anything.

"So, how much for him?" Matthew pointed at Spike.

"I'm not for sale," Spike said. "My owner has had me for a year. You really think he wants to train someone else to take my place?"

Matthew glared at him. "I am looking for a few select slaves-Sam, Liz-you-to accompany me on my travels. Price is no objective."

"Why me?" Spike asked, and Sam could tell his throat was hoarse. He figured it was from the sudden shift in topic to, well, him. If Spike was undercover, the man he was with wouldn't sell him, right?

"Well, he is right. I did put in a lot of time to training him, and I'd hate to part with him, but I might for the right price. Don't. Start., Jarrod," the man snapped. "I'd hate to retrain someone, but I suppose I could. Although I must warn you, Jarrod is feisty; it's how I like him."

"I can train him how I want him," the man responded. "Sam's not quite how I want him, yet, so they can train together. Then again, Liz isn't quite who I want yet, either, stubborn bitch."

Liz yawned contentedly in her sleep and put the pillow over her face.

Spike snorted. "You think she's stubborn? I'm more stubborn." With that, he moved to bolt for the room door.

Jerrick sighed and moved towards the door, grabbing Spike by the arm and tossing him on the floor. "You're pathetic, I bet Sam, when he does attempt to escape, will escape with a much more thoughtful plan than your idiotic attempts." He turned to Matthew, then. "How much are you willing to offer?"

"I'm not a piece of property you can just trade off!" Spike said as he attempted to get back up. Jerrick kept his shoe planted firmly on Spike's stomach.

"Yes, I'd love to get rid of him. How much are you willing to offer?"

"How much did you pay for him?"

"Five grand, but I've trained him. I want more than that."

"A million, cash, you walk away today," Matthew responded.

Sam felt a bad feeling in his gut. Why was Matthew so determined to own Spike? A million was a lot of money.

"Sounds great," Jerrick said. "Let's go do some paperwork."

Spike swallowed hard as Jerrick removed his foot. "You just can't leave me here with him."

"Yeah, I can. You'll be with Matthew now, and you'll know what Matthew's doing, and you'll be able to be with Sam and Liz." Jerrick gave Spike a pointed look.

Sam thought he got it, he wanted Spike to be with Sam, where Sam was. He just didn't understand why Matthew was so suddenly determined to own Spike. It made absolutely no sense.

Matthew smiled. "I am so glad to own Jarrod now, I'd not thought about it at first. But now that I am leaving my mansion in your hands, and the hands of my other members, I need some slaves to take with me, where I'm going. Plus, I love training rebelious slaves."

"I don't know why, you do a shit job at it," Liz muttered as she buried her face in the pillow again.

Matthew snorted. "You're still here. You have no room to talk."

Liz yawned and closed her eyes again, not responding.

"Let's go do some paperwork."

Spike stood as soon as he left, his mouth agape. "That son of a bitch sold me," he muttered as he went to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Liz opened her eyes. "I don't see why he's so attached. Jerrick's a jerk." She closed them again and went back to pretending to sleep.

Sam rolled his own eyes and closed the door, plotting how he and Spike could use this to escape.

## break ##

Greg stared at the man who was helping them with their case. He and Ed had met him at the McDonald's forty miles away. "You sold Spike? Are you insane? Why? That was not part of the game plan!" Greg hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

"I agree. That was never supposed to happen. You should have notified us first."

"Don't you trust me?" the man grunted. "I have a plan in all this, I promise."

"Well, whatever it is, it's looking really shitty for Sam and Spike right now."

"Well, Matthew is moving. I think it'd be wise to currently bust his mansion where he's at right now. I think we should wait until he moves, though."

"Why?"

"Because if we bust him now, he won't be there; he left this afternoon. I left Spike with his tracking device on, and he'll press it if things get too bad. I told him to do that. That's why I sold him."

"Assuming Matthew doesn't take it off."

"He doesn't suspect me. I gave him the tracking equipment that runs with it. If he turns it off, we go in storming. I let Spike know that, too."

"Well, at least that's something," Greg grumbled, clearly unhappy. He was going to have extremely strong words with Jerrick's supervisor when this was all over.

"Yeah. I'm sure that will comfort Spike and Sam as Matthew tortures them." Ed knocked over his coffee intentionally, spilling it all over the man's lap as he stormed out.

"Oops," Greg shrugged, also rising from the table.

## break ##

Sorry for the long delay! At least 300 words is already typed of the next chapter.

Your challenge: Why did Jerrick really sell Spike?

Don't forget to vote. Hopefully I got everyone's character in here. If I didn't let me know!


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